What I've Got And You Don't
by mute maiden
Summary: Nine-year-old Marie Hamilton is an ordinary Muggle. But when her older sister returns from school with a new best friend, strange things begin happening. What will it take to discover the wizarding world— and what she is missing? R&R PLEASE.
1. Chapter 1: Lumos

_What I've Got And You Don't_

_Disclaimer: _I do not own anything about or involving Harry Potter. All of the ideas and plots within the book, including the characters involved with the series, belong to J.K. Rowling.

_Author's Notes: _This is my first fanfiction, so please try to be polite when reviewing (though I assume that should be expected at all times, yes?) and give me some good, concrete constructive criticism! Though I told you to be nice, don't go easy on me just 'cos I'm a newbie. Just be polite about your corrections, alright? Also, some of the British terms may be wrong; I'm American, so Google was my only tools in those cases. Sorry! Also, I wasn't sure what year _Harry Potter_ was set in (?), but this _is_ a post-series writing, about two years after the end of _Harry Potter_. Also, I apologize for the awkwardness of the disclaimer. I was told I should put one in by a friend. :P Enjoy!

_Summary:_ Nine-year-old Marie Hamilton is an ordinary Muggle. But when her older sister returns from school with a new best friend, strange things begin happening. What will it take to discover the wizarding world—and what she is missing?

**CHAPTER 1**

I yawn, sitting up. I blink rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the morning sun streaming into my room. My sheets, as always, lay in a heap on the end of my bed. I sigh, pulling them over me. I'm a restless sleeper, everyone tells me. I thrash at night, leaving my covers rumpled and abandoned, my blanket thrust from me in a burst of energy. Pulling the thin material over my shoulders, I turn on my side, blocking out the light from my windows. Squeezing my lids shut, I search for the door to slumber, with no luck. Groaning, I heave myself up, perching on the edge of my mattress.

"Up we go," I mumble sleepily, rubbing the crust off my eyes. I stumble to the door, flinging it open. Before leaving, I glance back into the room. My digital clock reads 11:03. I've slept in, and my mum won't be happy; I'll be serving chores for it. Nevertheless, I stampede down the stairs, padding into the kitchen, my socks whispering softly as they brush the linoleum. My mum looks up from the pot she's 'slaving over', as I'm sure she would refer to it. She scowls at me.

"Marie," She begins, and I prepare myself mentally for the sure lecture that is coming, "How many times must I tell you? You're to be up by nine o'clock. Do you understand?" She doesn't give me a chance to respond, and I don't object. "Now, I've got a list of things for you to do today. It's right here, on the counter. Come and get it, dear." She licks her spoon and points it deliberately at the countertop, as though I hadn't understood it the first time. Rolling my eyes, I snatch it up and scan it as I shuffle into the lounge, where my sister, Elise, lays on the couch, watching one of her favorite shows on the telly. I can hear Mum still going on about my behavior, and how Elise always wakes up on time, but I ask Elise to turn up the volume. This helps with blocking her out.

"So," Elise begins, grinning, "Got a verbal beating from mum again?" She asks as I pry the remote from her hands, flipping through the channels. I ignore her, searching for something to watch. I settle on a program, and we watch it for a while. Soon enough it is over, and a different one comes on, one that Elise particularly dislikes. She sighs and stands up, grabbing a stack of papers from the table and plopping back down on the couch. "Turn off the tube," She demands, and I glare at her. 'Tube' is an old American word she picked up who-knows-where. She thinks it's trendy to use it. I just think it's stupid. "I'm doing homework!" She reinforces her request, and I sigh, clicking it off.

I suppose I better get started on my chores. First on the list: Take Duke for a walk. I shrug. Not too much of a pain. Standing, I call, "Duke!" Elise gives me a grouchy look, as though I'm disturbing her. But it shouldn't be a problem for her anymore; here comes Duke, a wiry terrier, bolting to me, wiggling like he's just won the doggie lottery. "Hey, Duke," I croon, and I'm afraid I might give him a stroke, how fast he shakes his little behind. I grab his worn leash out of his toy bin on the way out, clipping it to his collar.

We begin walking, Duke dragging me along despite his size, mostly because I don't resist. We pass by the Hawkins', and I scowl into the face of their house as its dark windows seem to taunt me. Two years back, Mum and Dad sent Elise off to a new boarding school, which the Hawkins recommended; they'd sent all of their three children to it, and now it was Carol's turn. Elise and Carol came back, best friends, at the start of the summer last year, and things have never been the same between Elise and me since. Wordlessly, I pass their house; but not before I see a flickering blue light from Carol's bedroom. Curiously I rein Duke in, watching as the light begins floating. I blink, not believing my eyes. That's impossible!

I shake my head, and when I look back, the light is gone, replaced by a bright room, lit by the light fixture at the center of a spinning fan. Carol sits cross-legged on her bed, reading a book—and is that a _bird cage_ on her dresser? I don't believe my eyes; inside is a large brown owl. Carol's sure got some strange taste in pets. Even so, it's none of my business. I was probably imagining things. I continue down the street, and when Duke and I circle back around, I pay special attention to the Hawkins' house. I pass by it several times, even peeking in the backyard. Despite my sleuthing, there seems to be nothing special about Carol's room—she continues neither reading, switching positions now and then— nor her siblings'. Disappointed, I head home.

I enter the house, letting Duke off his leash, and plod into the kitchen. My mother is sloshing stew into bowls, and, looking at me with disdain, begins to complain. "Marie!" She says shrilly, "What on earth took you so long? It's nearly six o'clock. You've been walking Duke for five hours! Your sister's already finished her homework and her chores, and you've not even started on your other four. Now come, you missed tea and it's time for supper." She scolds, and now that she mentions it, my legs do ache. Duke doesn't seem to disagree; he's stretched out on the kitchen floor, most likely asleep. I sigh and follow Mum, who's still going on about my lateness; can't she just drop it, for once?

Dad's already seated at the table, and he smiles at me as I pull out a chair. "Hello, Marie!" His eyes wrinkle up, he's smiling so big.

"Hullo, Daddy." I reply. At least someone's welcoming. We begin to eat the stew, and I compliment Mum on how delicious it is, if only to help her forget today's events. Afterwards I skip watching telly with the family and head straight to bed. I'm exhausted from examining Carol's mysterious house. I don't even have time to consider what happened—I'm asleep the second I lay my head on the pillow.

_**CHAPTER 2 SOON!**_


	2. Chapter 2: Rule Breaker

CHAPTER 2

I've thought a lot about what I saw in Carol's room. I've narrowed it down to three options: One, Carol's got a new gadget I haven't heard of. Two, the blue light was actually held up by something, and I just couldn't see it—makes sense. Three, I imagined it. I figure those are sensible options. I'm not exactly sure which one is more likely, but I'm assuming one or two is more plausible. One thing I know for sure, though—I'm not telling anyone about that little sighting. I don't want them to think I'm insane.

I'm at the library, sitting in the reading area. I don't actually have a book, but I figure it doesn't matter, as long as I'm quiet. People haven't started looking at me strangely yet, so I guess it's not too abnormal. I drum my fingers on a small table next to me, and a tall man gives me a silencing glare. Oh, right. Quiet. I sigh softly, standing. I head over to the Fiction section to retrieve a book. I'm in searching the Teen category, since all of the children's books are simply defined by their name—childish.

Giving up-- I can't be bothered to read through the first chapter of a book to determine if it's worthwhile –I exit, looking around outside at people on benches, cars in the lot. One particular man in a long black trenchcoat watches me carefully, squinting as if trying to see something up close. I glance over at him nervously as I clop over to the only empty bench --the one next to his. Unfortunately I am deathly afraid of sitting next to a stranger. It's an odd phobia, I'm sure, but small talk gives me the jitters-- as does talking to an old man who wants to know my name and what school I go to out of common interest, because he happens to be sitting next to me. After that, you never know where things could go. A less intimidating prospect of sitting beside a stranger is that one might brush arms with him or even spill something on them –quite embarrassing when the victim is young and even the slightest bit attractive, or even when they're not.

When you imagine the possibilities, it's much safer to just find a separate seat, don't you think? Thus, my logic. So, I set myself on the wooden bench, sliding to the far end, away from the man with the coat. He turns the page of his newspaper, and I can tell he looks at me from the corner of his eye. Fear begins to build inside me. Finally he folds his paper and clears his throat, turning to face me. I don't turn. I refuse to. I pretend not to notice him.

"Excuse me?" He asks. "Miss?" He taps the side of the bench, and I have no choice but to pay attention, lest I seem daft.

"Yes?" I smile kindly, barely turning my head his way.

"Could you tell me... are you related to Elise Hamilton? Could she be your sister? Are you... Marie?" He sounds very intelligent and addresses me politely, so I turn, a radiant smile on my face.

"Yes, I am, sir. And who might be asking?" I'm dying to find out this man's name, so I can confront Elise when I get home. What's she doing, knowing a man such as this?

"Edward Poppy. She goes to school with my son, David. If you could tell her we send greetings, I would be utterly delighted." Drat. This bloody school of hers. I nod nicely to the man, standing. I've had enough of the library for one day. "Marie?" Edward calls as I begin to walk away, in search of a pay phone. "Do you know if you'll be attending next year?"

What an odd question. "I'm only nine, sir. But I assume I'll be attending when I'm of age." Another smile, a wave, and I'm off.

"I hope you're able to." He calls from behind me. This man –_Edward Poppy _–just won't let me end the conversation, will he? I don't stop moving for him, but he doesn't seem to care. "It's always good to see one of you with your sister's spirit. I hope you've got what she has. We need more of your kind." What is he calling me? I continue on, my heart pounding. Now I've got something to talk to Elise about. 'More of your kind'? I find that insulting. What am I, some sort of alien?

Infuriated, I actually walk the mile and a half home, closing the door with a little too much force. My mother instantly appears in the foyer, hands on her hips. "Young lady!" She announces sternly, pointing to the spot in front of her. I obey her silent command, moving forward. Her finger remains, now aimed at me. "You were supposed to call us to come pick you up. What on _earth_ possessed you to walk home? You know you are not allowed to do such things!" Her voice goes up a notch, her anger more than evident.

Anger pulses through me. "Sorry, mum." I mutter through clenched teeth. I've been working lately on my temper. I don't know if it's working very well at this moment, though; I'm nearly choking trying not to holler back at her. Even though I don't really have an argument –She did tell me it was not allowed, even reminded me this morning when she dropped me off –I'd like nothing more than to slap her right now.

"To your room." She orders, her voice shaking. The red in her face is subsiding. "Do not even think about coming down until you've been called for supper." At this point, she is turning, leaving, going back to what she's nearly always doing: Cooking. I see Elise's face poking out from the stairwell, and I head that way, stomping as hard as I can up the stairs. "Marie!" my mother screams, and I stop, resisting the urge to cry hot tears of rage. Elise runs to her room. I go into mine, stopping myself before slamming the door.

Why should i get so worked up about this? I should've followed the rules, and I know it. Yet my anger is uncontrollable, clenching my hands into fists so tight I can't feel my fingers, shaking my very joints. Elise isn't this way; Elise is perfect. I want to hurl. Why can't my mother ever compliment me? All she does is compare me to my sister, so beautiful and manicured, so smart and precise. My father, of course, is home less and less every year, his work time-consuming and addicting, but at least he tries.

I hate Elise at this moment. I know it's not her fault; she tries to be a friend to me. Yet, the thought of Elise brings a thought of Edward Poppy, which brings curiosity, and all is forgotten. I'd like to talk to Elise, but I want to stay true to my plan not to disobey, which hasn't been working out for me very much in the past few days. Sighing, I sit on my bed just as the door clicks open. It's Elise.

"Hello," she murmurs, gently closing the door and sitting next to me. "I'm sorry." She offers, and I smile. It's not her fault, yet she apologizes. She always knows what t do. Another perfect trait on her.

"'S not your fault, Elise." I mutter. "I shouldn't have done it. But I met this man, Edward Poppy, at the library, and he wanted me to tell you that he and David send greetings. Then he said something about you being awful determined for one of your kind, and said he hopes to see me at that school of yours." I ramble. Elise's face freezes, but she quickly hides her expression.

"Oh, yeah, Edward is David's father. I met him when we were shopping in Diag —for my books. Met him when we were shopping for my schoolbooks." She mumbles.

"What did he mean?" I press. "One of our kind?"

"Oh, he just meant that..." She pauses. "He'd like to see more hard working kids, I guess. I don't know. David's dad usually speaks in riddles." She answers quickly. I shrug. Suddenly the door clicks open again, to reveal an empty hallway –but I look down, and Duke has pushed my door open with his nose again. I broke the latch slamming it, and now he can come in whenever he pleases. I sigh and pick him up, rubbing behind his ears.

"Alright," Elise says, giving Duke a quick pat on the head, "I'd better go study. I'll bring you some tea soon, okay?" I nod, and Elise leaves with a soft smile. I plop down on my bed, turning on my radio. This will be the second day in a row I've missed tea. And now I can't leave my room until _supper_. I've got a long day ahead of me.


End file.
